


Keeping you company

by summerwines



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Bodymod AU, Christmas, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3078176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwines/pseuds/summerwines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time, Dipper decides to spend Christmas away from family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping you company

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas Bodymod AU fic for pan-sweaterseasonual - in fulfillment of their prompt for ssparapines. Hope you like it! (And sorry I wasn't able to post it on Christmas day.)

Dipper usually spends Christmas with his whole family in California. It is always an event: His mother makes him and Mabel dress up in matching sweaters that she made herself. For the sake of all the visitors at the house, Mabel always has a performance ready, whether dance, song, or all of the above. Dipper, sometimes, is part of it, though for the past few Christmases he's been letting Mabel take the spotlight all alone.

“But apparently I have to spend Christmas with you this year,” Dipper says, mockingly, while he hangs a ball on the Christmas tree he and Norman bought together.

Norman smiles at this, and then yawns, while he walks to the couch.

They're in Norman's apartment, where Norman's drawings of poltergeist, skeletons, and flowers are in frames on the walls. Norman lies on the couch, tired from work. His shirt rides up, showing off the tattoos on his stomach.

“Someday I'll bring you to see my parents,” Dipper says, as he puts up the final decoration: an angel dressed in gold. He smiles at the thought of Norman meeting Mabel, how she'd thin her eyes, touch his hair, size him up. His parents might be a little shocked, because of all the tattoos, though Dipper thinks they'll probably cope. He's seen none of them since last Christmas, though he and Mabel talk on the phone every now and then.

“I'd like that,” Norman says.

Dipper sneaks a look at him from where he stands behind the tree. Norman's eyes are closed. As he breathes out, it looks like the ghost on his stomach is moving.

“I'm done with the tree,” Dipper says. He did it all by himself. He'd been at Norman's apartment since 3 in the afternoon, trying to decorate the place. Norman would never do it himself, and Dipper never thought he would either. But since he decided not to spend Christmas with his family this year, he's made it a point to let the holiday cheer manifest, even without his mom, his dad, or Mabel.

Dipper walks over to the couch and gets down on his knees, his head by Norman's. He shakes Norman's arm; his fingers trace through the markings.

“Hey, I'm done with the tree,” Dipper says, and Norman looks at him, smiles. Norman lifts his hand to smooth it through Dipper's hair, and it feels good. Dipper smiles at him.

“You haven't eaten, Norm,” Dipper says.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So what's the plan?"

“You weren't gonna make me anything?”

“Nah, man.” Dipper's eyebrows furrow. He puts two fingers by Norman's cheeks, and wriggles them, trying to tickle him

“Oh. Well.” Norman scratches his head, and swats Dipper's fingers away. “Maybe I'll order pizza?”

“You do that,” Dipper says, kissing Norman quick on the lips before standing up.

They're eating the pizza, ham and pineapples, about 45 minutes later, Norman sitting up on the couch, Dipper on the floor with a laptop on his lap. They don't really do much while they're together. Dipper usually does work on his laptop: He either reads, or talks to his superiors at the university. Meanwhile, Norman listens to music, draws, or watches crime shows on the television. At times, they'd lie together, Norman on his back, Dipper lying on top of him. He likes resting his head on Norman's bare chest, likes to trace his fingers on all the markings on his body. Whenever Norman hugs him, it is always tight, his hands warm on Dipper's back.

They have two weeks until Christmas. Dipper still has no idea what he should get for Norman as a gift. He wonders what Norman will get him, because surely it'll be something Dipper loves; he's got no doubt about it. Dipper wants to ask if there's any place Norman wants to eat in for Christmas Eve, or if there's anything special he'd like prepared – a cake, a turkey, whatever. There's still a lot left unprepared, though Dipper isn't too scared.

 

xx

 

The weekend before Christmas, Dipper and Norman go to the supermarket to buy whatever they'd need for their Christmas meal. They decide to prepare their own food for Christmas Eve. Dipper pays for the chicken and the shortbread, and Norman insists that he pay for the carrots and the wine even though Dipper wanted to. They let the food sit in the fridge for the time being.

They're back to their routine late in the afternoon. They roll around the bed for a while, Norman tickling Dipper's tummy, trying to ask Dipper what he got him for Christmas. Dipper, of course, will not budge. The rolling around gradually turns into soft kisses; and the soft kisses gradually turn into a nap.

When Dipper wakes up, the apartment is dark, and Norman is out in the balcony smoking a cigarette. His shirt is off, even though it's freezing outside, seeing as it's nighttime in the winter. The Christmas lights are on, so Norman is lighted up in red, yellow, and blue. The web on Norman's back makes Dipper stop and stare when he tries to approach. Dipper wonders if Norman's looking at something out there, perhaps a ghost floating in the air, the ones he always talks about.

Dipper pulls on his red sweater and coat. As soon as he walks out to the balcony, he smells the smoke.

“What are you doing out here?” Dipper asks, pulling on his coat. The wind is blowing on him; it hurts Dipper's face.

“Was talking to someone,” Norman says, after he let out the smoke from his mouth.

Dipper looks around. “Is that someone still here?”

“Nah,” Norman says. He puts out his cigarette on the ashtray on the railing.

“What were you talking about?”

“Nothing, really. I think he was having a bad day. Needed someone decent to talk to.”

Dipper nods, smiles some. “Hm,” he goes. He doesn't understand, exactly, how a dead person could have a bad day.

Norman ruffles Dipper's hair. His hand is cold. “Now what shall we do for the rest of the night?” he says, keeping his hand on Dipper's cheek. Dipper wants to say that he just wants to stay in bed for the rest of the day, and maybe kiss Norman's stomach.

He puts a finger on the garter of Norman's trousers. He looks Norman in the eye. “I dunno,” he says, leaning in to rest his forehead on Norman's shoulder.

“I'm feeling a bit cold out here,” Norman says.

“Well whose fault is that?” Dipper holds Norman's waist with one hand, and holds Norman's back with the other. Norman hugs back, tight.

“I like how you look with these lights,” Norman says. “Pretty.”

“Oh shut up.”

“No, I mean, really. Thank you, Dipper.”

“For what?” Dipper keeps his head under Norman's neck. He keeps the hand on Norman's back, fingers tracing the markings he remembers, even though he cannot see them at the moment.

“For keeping me company this year.”

Dipper lifts his head, and looks Norman in the eye. Dipper feels like he's been punched in the gut.

“You don't have to thank me.”

“You sure? Because I can think of a million reasons why I'd have to.” Norman takes both of Dipper's cheeks. The look Norman gives him makes Dipper want to jump off the apartment building.

“Sure,” Dipper says, gulping. “Yeah.”

“So will you be sleeping here tonight?”

Dipper tucks in his lips, and he raises an eyebrow.

Norman laughs. “Was that a stupid question?”

He's barely gone to his apartment for the whole holiday season, and he dreads going back, since he'll only come back to dirty socks on the floor, a stack of books, an empty bed.

Dipper no longer wonders if he did the right thing, staying with Norman this Christmas. Dipper tells him that yes, it was a very stupid question. Dipper kisses him, arms around Norman's neck. He tastes a bit of the metal from Norman's tongue ring. It's always a rough ordeal, kissing Norman, but it doesn't matter – not when Norman makes him feel this warm. He wants to tell Norman again: that it was such a stupid question, that he didn't need to thank Dipper for anything, that he's so excited to spend this Christmas with him; he really is.

 

xx

 

The day before Christmas Eve, Dipper stays at his apartment and talks to his parents through Skype. They ask him how he's doing, and Dipper can say nothing but good things. Work is good; he couldn't ask for a nicer office. He's thinking of applying for a teaching position soon, and he thinks his chances are good. His parents also ask if he's been seeing anyone lately. Dipper says yes, he is. And they may meet the person soon.

“Merry Christmas, son,” his dad says.

“Merry Christmas, Dippy,” his mom says.

Their heads are almost squished together on the screen. Dipper smiles at them, and says his goodbyes.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” he says.

Moments later, he shuts down his laptop. Dipper gets ready for bed, wearing a gray sweatshirt and some socks. He washes his face, and brushes his teeth, before he goes to lie down.

He's already dozing off when his phone rings. Dipper groans and reaches for it on his bedside table.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” goes the voice on the other line. It's Norman. “I didn't think you'd be asleep. I didn't—Shit, I just got home from a party, a bit drunk, though not really, you know? I left really early. It's—10pm. Were you really asleep?”

“Norm—It's okay.” Dipper sits up. “I was just about to. No big deal.”

“Oh—Well, then. Hi, Dipper.”

“Hiya.”

“Yeah.” Norman breathes out. “I haven't seen you since yesterday.”

“I know.” And it sucks, but there really isn't anything they can do but wait. “I'm going to yours tomorrow, as soon as I finish some stuff here at home.”

“Right,” Norman says. “I just—You know, when I stepped into my apartment, there was ghost in a Santa outfit waiting for me? It happens every year!”

“That must've been cool.”

“To an extent, yeah, it kinda is. But really, it isn't. It's—creepy, Dipper.”

“This coming from the person who sees ghosts 24/7.”

“Yeah, exactly! I mean, you should see him, he—doesn't talk. He just stands there smiling at me. With—ghost gifts in his arms. I don't know what he wants from me. Or if he wants me to help him or something. He's just been there, since I got the apartment.”

Dipper laughs some. “But why'd he show up on December 23, instead of 25?”

“He doesn't always get the date right.”

“Sure.” Dipper bites his lip, and smiles.

“God, I wish you were here.”

Dipper doesn't reply to this. He only sighs.

“Though I guess I shouldn't keep you up, right? The sooner we sleep, the sooner Christmas Eve will come.”

“Yeah,” is all Dipper says.

“See you Dipper.”

“See you,” Dipper says, and it immediately doesn't feel like enough. “I love you, Norm. I love you a lot.” There's a pause, which feels a bit too long. “And just so you know,“ Dipper continues, “We're gonna have the worst Christmas dinner tomorrow. The absolute worst, I tell you.”

“I fucking know right?”

“I love you,” Dipper says again.

“Me too,” Norman says.

“See you, Norman.”

“Yeah.”

 

xx

 

It's Christmas Eve.

Dipper arrives at Norman's at lunch time. This is after he sends a few emails, and talks to his sister on the phone. Dipper opts to walk, since it really isn't that far. Dipper says hello and Norman kisses him, quickly, hungrily.

“What's gotten into you?” Dipper says, while he simultaneously melts into Norman's arms, as they go around Dipper's back, warm, making Dipper need to grab on to something – the coat hanger, the wall, Norman's shirt.

Dipper grows a bit annoyed, because Norman practically carries him to the bedroom.

“I think I've grown too used to seeing you every day,” Norman says. He kisses Dipper's neck, and Dipper holds his head.

“Me and my cute face?” Dipper jokes.

He licks below Dipper's chin. “Definitely,” he says.

They have sex on the bed. They take off their shirts, and Norman runs his hands through the sides of Dipper's torso. When Norman kisses Dipper's legs, Dipper shivers, and he bites his lip to hold back a moan.

When naked, Norman looks marvelous, Dipper thinks. Dipper bites Norman's neck, as if he's biting off the spider web, and Dipper licks Norman's arms, as sweat drips from the tattoo of a long bone. He loves how Norman smells: men's cologne, mixed with coffee and the air freshener they always use at the parlor.

Dipper worries, in the middle of it, that he may be moaning too loudly, as he takes Norman's cock. From his first position, legs in the air, back arching whenever Norman thrusts past just the right spots, Dipper moves to make Norman lie on his back. He wants to ride Norman and feel him throb, and shiver.

“God, you're so hot,” Norman says, face in a dreamy state while Dipper rides him. He holds Dipper's neck, then runs his fingers through Dipper's hair.

Norman rests his head on Dipper's breastbone, and Dipper has to rest for a minute. Norman continues, thrusting with a languid rhythm. Dipper clings hard, sweat streaming down his hairline down to his jaw. His heart beats wildly at the feeling of Norman inside him. He has to roll back his head and scream out, when Norman hits something inside him.

“Oh god,” Dipper goes. “Oh god, oh god.”

In their delirium, they lie together once they're spent. Dipper feels weary, and sore all over, though his heart also feels warm, and satisfied. He rolls so he can rest his head on Norman's chest.

“We have to prepare soon,” Dipper says.

“Sleep first,” Norman says, petting Dipper's hair.

Dipper smiles, and he leans toward the hand resting on Norman's stomach. Dipper kisses Norman's knuckles.

They take their nap, Dipper feeling utterly sated. Later, he won't remember what he dreams about. He only remembers light and dark shades, with a sudden flash of dark green. When he wakes up, Norman isn't beside him. He hears the faint clink of metal, and knows immediately that Norman's started preparing for dinner.

Norman prepares the roasted chicken – a small one, because he and Dipper wouldn't have been able to finish one whole. Dipper busies himself with the sweet glazed carrots. He trims off the stalks, first. He takes the butter and the goose fat, and he puts them together in a large, wide pan, which he had just bought a few days ago, because Norman wouldn't have had any of this. Over the years, Dipper's learned how to cook for himself, and he's cooked for his family time and again, with the guidance of his sister and his mom.

They finish all the cooking at 8 in the evening. Norman's set the table, a candle lit at the center. Dipper rests for a minute, sitting on the couch and holding a jar of Christmas tree cookies.

“Don't spoil your dinner,” Norman says from the dining table, and Dipper chuckles, at this.

Dipper thinks of putting on the radio, afterwards. He sets it down on the kitchen counter, and he plays an FM station, one he's sure would be playing Christmas music at this hour.

They eat dinner in relative peace. The sounds of their spoons and forks, their teeth, and the radio fill the room.

He said they'd have the worst Christmas dinner ever, but really, it turned out pretty well. The chicken is tender, and part of it melts in Dipper's mouth. The caramelized carrots help Dipper tone down the taste of the chicken in his mouth. Norman looks like he's enjoying himself as well. Dipper can tell from the looks he's been giving. His smile's been small, but constant throughout the meal.

They make their chairs closer to each other later, so they could take a picture on Dipper's phone. They just smile, in one. Norman kisses Dipper's cheek in another, and Dipper rests his head on Norman's shoulder in a third.

Dipper lets Norman stand up first to get his present from the bedroom. Dipper brings his own out from the bag he brought, which he left by the couch. He sits on the floor, keeping the box by his side. When Norman comes, he brings along a box wrapped in golden wrapper. Dipper looks at it suspiciously.

“This better be amazing,” Dipper says.

Norman bites his lip, and shrugs. “I—Well—Um.” He looks genuinely nervous, and Dipper suddenly feels bad for saying what he did.

They sit so that their bodies are almost squished together. Norman puts an arm around Dipper's shoulders. He watches while Dipper rips open the present. Dipper grins wildly when he sees it. It turns out to be the complete series of The X Files on DVD.

“Oh,” Dipper says.

“Yeah, well, I thought—“

“It's fucking awesome.”

Dipper turns is head and gives Norman a quick kiss on the cheek. Norman looks satisfied by this, like a schoolboy who just impressed his first love.

“Now time for you to open yours,” Dipper says, handing his present to Norman.

Dipper got him a black, hardbound sketchbook, with a set of pencils to go with it.

“Romantic,” Norman says, smiling. He kisses Dipper's temple. Dipper tells him he thought it'd be useful, since he always sees Norman drawing on pieces of paper he finds here and there. He might need somewhere to collect, and gather everything.

Norman holds Dipper's chin with his thumb. They just stare at each for a while. Dipper looks at Norman's piercings, on the ears, on the nose. He places a hand on Norman's shirt, and he clings tight.

Dipper kisses him. “Merry Christmas, Norman,” he says, even though they still have a couple of hours before the clock strikes 12.

Norman kisses him back, once, twice, on the chin, on the cheek. “You know, Dip.” He kisses him again. “When we first met, I never would've thought that I'd like you this much.”

“Well, that's to be expected,” Dipper says.

Norman holds up Dipper's face. “God,” he goes. “What are we supposed to do now, Dippy?”

Dipper shrugs. Norman giggles.

They pass the next two hours drinking the red wine, and watching the Christmas special on ABC. Fifteen minutes to Christmas, Norman gets on his back on the couch, and Dipper gets on him, to listen to his heartbeat.

When midnight comes, Dipper lifts up his upper body so he could grab Norman's face to kiss him.

“Best Christmas ever,” Dipper whispers, between kisses.

“Yeah,” Norman says.

They fall asleep tangled together. In his dreams, Dipper sees a multitude of green figures, faces blurred, bodies in varied dress. There's one in a coat like Santa's. Dipper walks past all of them, says nothing, just looks. They all murmur, but Dipper has no idea what they are saying. Norman appears in the dream, near the end.

“Merry Christmas,” Norman says.

Dipper wakes up, shakes Norman to get up. “What did you just do?” Dipper says. Norman asks if he liked the show, a sleepy smile on his face. Dipper didn't really see much, but yes, he did. He smiles, and kisses Norman once more.

“I love you,” Norman says, his hands on Dipper's hair.

Norman takes Dipper's hand, gently. Dipper is the one who tightens the grip. There's nothing else he can say, so he buries his face under Norman's chin. In a while, they go quiet and still, once again.

**fin.**


End file.
